BPO and Seiji Ozawa Berliner Philharmoniker BPHR240431

The Berliner Philharmoniker and Seiji Ozawa
Contents listed after review
rec. live, various dates 1979-2016, Philharmonie, Berlin
Reviewed as a Hi-Resolution 24 bit download
Berliner Philharmoniker BPHR 240431 [6 CDs and 1 Blu-ray Video]

The latest release from the Berliner Philharmoniker home label is devoted to live recordings made with Seiji Ozawa mainly from the 1980s. In the emerging tradition of the label, it is a high-quality product to put alongside their previous releases that have included Petrenko in Rachmaninov and Shostakovich, Rattle in Beethoven, Sibelius, Schumann and Mozart and their memorable boxes devoted to the symphonies of both Mahler and Bruckner. 

Ozawa first came to Berlin to assist Karajan who became a great mentor for the young firebrand conductor from Japan. He subsequently built up his reputation in North America leading the Toronto SO from 1965-69, the San Francisco SO from 1970-77 and of course the Boston SO for nearly 30 years until 2002. He was always welcome back in Berlin, however, and from the mid-1960s he conducted regular subscription concerts at the Philharmonie and on tour.

It is worth mentioning that Vienna was also a happy hunting ground for Ozawa especially in the later part of his career. There may be readers who like me have mementos of his productions at the Staatsoper where he was Director from 2002-10. Jenufa, Jonny spielt auf, Holländer and Pique Dame stick in the mind and are testament to the breadth of his repertory in the opera house as well as on the concert stages of the world.

The music on offer from this sumptuous box begins with a disc of three contrasting concertos. At 24, 21 and 23 minutes respectively, they do not outstay their welcome in a box devoted to a conductor and prove a lovely start to the listening experience. Pierre Amoyal plays with style in the famous Bruch and we have Martha Argerich in her showpiece Ravel. This version recorded in 1982 lies between the famous 1967 record with Abbado in Berlin and her later digital remake in London (both on Deutsche Grammophon). Admirers of Argerich will no doubt be able to cite several more versions they admire but this one is definitely special. Argerich slowed down between her two studio versions over the fifteen years but this account is faster than both. Soloist and conductor find a perfect blend of light and shade; it is most exciting and Argerich is in masterful form throughout. A vintage performance.

As good as that Ravel performance is, you simply must hear the Bartok Viola Concerto which ends CD1. This work is unfairly neglected and for me is one of Bartók’s best concertos. Yes; I know it is a very late piece and was left in an unfinished state to be completed by Tibor Serly (leading some to be suspicious of its authenticity in authorship terms) but it is far more convincing than the similarly late Piano Concerto No 3 and violists have for years thanked their lucky stars they have this masterpiece which, for me, sits alongside the Walton and Hindemith’s Der Schwanendraher. In this performance from 1988, BPO principal Wolfram Christ is the soloist, as he was in the studio a year later when it was recorded by DG with the same forces. Christ brings a bold full tone and advocacy to the piece which, like me, he obviously loves – the notes tell us he first gave it with Maazel in 1981. In the Adagio religioso the playing is magnificent, the audience hushed into a spell of wonder. An attacca brings us into the Hungarian folk-tune based (or is it Romanian?) finale which also immortalizes William Primrose, who commissioned the piece by using a Scottish tune (1:42). Wolfram Christ’s pyrotechnics in this finale have to be heard to be believed and Ozawa is a perfect accompanist. I am glad we have an example of Ozawa’s Bartók, of whom he was a great advocate.

Moving into CD2, we come to a reading of Haydn No 60 from 1987. This symphony is actually the incidental music to a play called Il distratto (to give it its Italian translation) performed at Eszterháza in 1774. It consists of the Overture, four entr’actes and the finale from the five act play. Ozawa opts for a reduced sized band and the work comes over really well, the players seemingly enjoying their cameo roles in the often comic interludes. Collectors may remember a similarly styled performance from the same era from Rattle and the CBSO.

Tchaikovsky No 1 from 1992 is good to have. Ozawa gave us multiple recordings of the last three symphonies in performances from Boston, Berlin, Chicago and Paris but I cannot find another recording of this early piece of Tchaikovsky in his discography. Ozawa was always a wonderful conductor of ballet music and he brings his sure sense of rhythm, dance and fizz to this music. In Tchaikovsky’s first large scale work he struggled with the symphonic form and the composition process was traumatic. In the end, what we have is charming, if a little naïve and a favourite of many especially since the recording of full symphony-cycles has meant it has a rich legacy on record built up since the age of the LP. At 43 minutes, Ozawa’s is a lively reading that doesn’t sag. The string tone is opulent and big in the Karajan sense but try the dreamy oboe solo in the second movement and its subsequent elaboration and you will get a sense of the delicacy and attention to detail in this performance, too. Ozawa is quicker in this Adagio than Karajan, Abbado and even Muti, but in no sense do I feel that he hurries things; Markevitch’s Land of desolation, land of mists is even fleeter but is from an earlier era. Tchaikovsky clearly worked hard with the counterpoint in the finale but in my opinion the movement is the hardest to bring off as a convincing whole. Ozawa’s is as good an attempt as any and he positively relishes in the fireworks at the end.

At the age of 26 Tchaikovsky was learning to master the symphonic form. By 59, Bruckner, on the other hand, had had considerable experience with it – albeit that he still suffered regular anxiety about his work. Bruckner’s No 7 is the third CD in this collection in a performance from the BPO and Ozawa in 1988. Here may be a good opportunity to compare Ozawa with his mentor Karajan. Bruckner No 7 was a great favourite of Karajan. As well as the three studio versions, I have heard at least two live performances with the Vienna Philharmonic (London 1962 and Linz 1974). Karajan’s last recording took place within a year of this Ozawa one in Vienna in April 1989; most collectors prefer his first in Berlin in 1970/1 recorded by EMI in the Jesus-Christus-Kirche. 

Ozawa with the Berliner Philharmoniker gives us a conservative, unmannered first movement free from the gear-changes that plague some accounts. It is well shaped throughout and climaxes build naturally. The long development has its spell-binding moments (listen to the blend of winds and lower strings at 8:20) and Ozawa’s attention to the little things really pays off. As with all these radio recordings, the engineers at Sender Freies Berlin caught the Berlin sound in the Philharmonie admirably well. The enormous coda is signalled by a long timpani roll on E (19:14). What power and majesty in the building crescendo and fanfares that end this magnificent movement. At 20:43 Ozawa brings us home half-way between Karajan in 1971 (21:49) and 1989 (19:47).

The Adagio is the work that made Bruckner famous. Those four Wagner tubas used famously in the opening tribute theme to the master of Bayreuth who died whilst Bruckner was working on the piece. Ozawa paces the opening nicely. At 4:10, strings bring in the sweet second theme above a rocking accompaniment. It all feels so organic, natural and sincere. According to the directions given in the score, it is actually quite slow but it never feels it. Perhaps the lushness of the string body is just so hypnotic that I am captivated a little too much. Of course, there are contemporary accounts of this Adagio that are much longer in duration to mixed success; I think Ozawa gets the pace about right here. The climax of the movement includes the cymbal crash à la Karajan and the wind-down is impeccably measured up to the re-appearance of the Wagner tubas at 20:46. The movement has always especially resonated with German audiences. It was played on the radio in the war after the announcement of the calamity at Stalingrad. Perhaps Ozawa does not bring the gravity of grief to bear as poignantly as some readings do but the audience in the Philharmonie that evening seemed hushed and awed by the performance and I am convinced by it.

Have you seen the famous film footage of Barbirolli rehearsing the start of the scherzo with the Hallé in 1967? He works through the first four bars over and over again until he gets that sense of nervousness, and ominous portent he is looking for. It is an insightful three or four minutes that capture a great musician at work (it is easily found on YouTube). I get the sense Ozawa had that respectful communion with his players and like Barbirolli his performances were always immaculately prepared, both conductors burning the midnight oil to be ready on the day with a complete mastery of the score. Ozawa’s is a lively scherzo and a joyful care-free finale. Bruckner definitely front-loads this symphony and the finale is not like the Eighth in its scope or importance. Georg Tintner likened it to a Haydn finale. Of course it does end with one of those immense codas which blazes out from the Berliners.

We are up to CD4 and an Ozawa speciality comes next. He did Mahler No 1 on record in Boston twice and the notes here tell us he conducted it first in Berlin in 1968. The performance on this CD comes from 1980 and is one of the earliest ones in this set. Karajan (whose presence we must always be aware of when dealing with any BPO recordings of his era) came late to Mahler starting in the 1960s with Das Lied von der Erde which he finally recorded for DG in 1973. He eventually did, in order of Nos 5, 6, 4 and 9 (twice) on record. The studio 9th Karajan recorded was being made at the time Ozawa gave this concert of the 1st so the players were in the zone, I think it’s fair say. Ozawa made the No 1 on record for DG in 1977, then ten years later again for Philips. 

In this account, we can compare Ozawa with two other contemporaneous BPO recordings made in the Philharmonie. Abbado’s for DG live in 1989 and Haitink’s for Philips in 1987. Listeners will immediately notice that Ozawa is quicker in all movements. This is most noticeable in the first movement and the important finale. In fact, at just over 52 minutes overall he is closer to some of the older classics of the LP era made before we all started to enjoy our Mahler wallowing in slower tempos. Ozawa can linger, as in the Trio to the second movement but witness his return straight after to a whirlwind Ländler and you will agree that he’s no slouch.Solo bass, bassoon and tuba get us underway memorably in the funeral march with some pretty rustic sounding oboes (2:00) adding local colour. Ozawa does not overdo the klezmer but allows his players to phrase and caress their parts to super effect. Mahler uses his song “Die zwei blauen Augen von meinem Schatz” to lovely lyrical effect (5:25). “O blue eyes, why did you look at me? Now I have eternal sorrow and grief!” Haitink’s Philips engineers rigged-up their mics to give us wonderful sound. Ozawa’s radio recording doesn’t quite match those sonics but his shaping and rubato are to my ears more effective.

The finale is huge and unifies the piece. It is the crowning glory of the magnificent Abbado version. Ozawa is similarly monumental and relentless. Have you ever held your breath for three minutes? That’s how long it takes until things clam down and we hear the exposition’s second theme; it really is stormy and breathless until then and I love it. This ensuing idyll is moulded with care and strings sing as they always did for Abbado with this composer. The development is very long but Ozawa is driven (the whole movement at 19:29 is much swifter than Abbado and Haitink) and the brass really come into their own. The horns belt it out at the end as the composer directed; aufstehen! indeed.

Hindemith’s Symphonia Serena is a rarity. Dating from 1946 it is one of his most affable and easily accessible works. Hindemith himself recorded it with the Philharmonia in 1956 and it has had other more recent outings on disc too (though it is strange how such a cheery work hasn’t become more popular). The first movement is full of contrasting ideas which are developed ingeniously. The first noble subject is given initially to the principal horn, bold and full-bodied, as Norman Del Mar said in his original notes for the Columbia LP. It is contrasted with a graceful second theme (2:29) that is given a kind of concerto grosso treatment (from 4:01) and then explored symphonically in development. This immaculately prepared performance makes a compelling case for the work to be heard more often. A short scherzo for winds only is followed by a most unusual movement for strings called Colloquy. First, there are strings playing arco followed in another section by another group playing pizzicato. In between, there is a large cadenza for solo violin echoed by an offstage player. The cadenza like passage then returns this time with two violas. Finally, both string groups in both arco and pizzicato gather together for their ultimate colloquy. It is all very clever in the best possible sense. This serene symphony ends with a passacaglia-like finale that has great impact and shows off the orchestra to great effect, as would any decent concerto for orchestra which, if you listen from 6:52 to the end just over two minutes later, it feels very much like. I am glad the powers that be at the Berliner Philharmoniker label shortlisted this work for inclusion. The symphony is split across CDs which won’t be a problem if you are listening to digital files or streaming but may be an annoyance if you are wedded to the silver disc format.

Next we come to Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique in a performance from 1982. Here, I again compared Ozawa with himself in Toronto for CBS in 1966 and in Boston for DG in 1973 alongside Karajan in Berlin for DG in 1964 and again ten years later. I couldn’t resist digging out for old time’s sake the old 33CX 1206 Columbia that Karajan made with the Philharmonia. It has a habit of making a return every time I think about this symphony. Ozawa in Berlin is once again meticulous in his preparation and there are places where he brings attention to details that I don’t hear in the earlier versions especially in the scène aux champs. The homogeneity of the strings sound in this movement is so impressive and when wind voices emerge from under their layer, it is a wonderful effect. The songe d’une nuit du sabbat is effective but the bells are a little disappointing (do we miss a strike at 3:13 ?) Karajan was so consistent in his tempo in this work – his slow movement is literally within seconds of 16:40 in all three – and for me the classic Philharmonia version is always going to be my number one. Ozawa is slower in Berlin (49 mins) then he was in Toronto (46) or Boston (47) and speaking personally I think that this account, although worthy, is not essential.

CD6 contains Strauss’s glorious last tone poem Eine Alpensinfonie. Recorded in the Philharmonie at the end of the 1995/6 season, Ozawa had just set down a version of the work in Vienna for Philips literally weeks before. I always wish Philips had recorded Ozawa in more Central European symphonic core repertory rather than pigeonholing him with the French so much. He and his Berliners are simply magnificent here. I listened again to the Karajan (sorry if that is getting a little repetitive but I don’t think Maestro Ozawa would mind) and Mehta who made their records also with the BPO in the Philharmonie. Karajan’s early digital recording (December 1980) always suffered from a harshness of sound as the engineers were still getting to grips with the change from analogue taping. Mehta in 1989 for Sony is simply glorious to my ears but does he match Ozawa here? Try track 13 On the Summit and you may have the same feeling. This is a magisterial work and in this presentation I am blown away by it once again. The twelve offstage horns combine with trumpet and trombones to tingling effect in the Ascent section. Strings are full bodied and rich as we meander through the lovely lower lying areas of our mountain. Strauss said his skills in orchestration really peaked in this work and thanks to the technical team in the hall nothing gets lost in the taping. Higher up we get some authentic sounding cow-bells and the woodwind get their chance to impersonate all manner of bird and cattle to memorable effect. Ozawa picks up the pace markedly as we approach the Glacier. Of course the BPO easily manage to stay with him where other lesser mortals may have slipped up on the metaphorical ice. 

You will wish we could have stayed On the Summit longer, believe me, but the arc having been reached, Strauss takes us to unexpected places and shifts our sense of direction. Alert listeners may be able to hear Ozawa’s vocalisations as he steers his giant orchestra around the turns. There are moments of tranquillity and calm before Gewitter und Sturm but the sense of unease is maintained by judicious rubato and attention to detail so characteristic of this conductor-orchestra partnership. Wind machine, thundersheet, raging brass and lashing strings paint the tempest to staggering effect when it arrives followed eventually by the organ’s calming tones (track 21) ushering in the return of the main theme as the work draws to its ultimate conclusion at measured pace and in glorious harmony. As far as the big works in this collection go I think the Berliner Philharmoniker label have saved the best till last. 

Nowhere in the set do we hear applause. In fact the audience never make their presence felt in an intrusive way. The box begins and ends with two smaller works which frame things really intelligently. Beethoven’s Overture Leonore No. 2 tops the billing before the concerti. We end fittingly with the Prelude and Liebestod to Tristan und Isolde.

The box also contains a Blu-ray disc containing three concert recordings of much more recent provenance. There is a complete performance of Mendelssohn’s Elijah from 2009. The soloists include Matthias Goerne, Annette Dasch, Nathalie Stutzmann and Anthony Dean Griffey. It was actually the second time he had done the oratorio in Berlin and was in celebration of Mendelssohn’s bicentenary. The compulsive collector that I am, I already had a tape of this concert from RBB. It really is very impressive and this mainstream release is most welcome. The duet Elijah has with the Widow at Zarepath is so tender. Goerne’s velvet instrument is caught to marvellous effect in “Lord God of Abraham” (obviously the performance is in German but most of us know the arias in English I’m sure). Stutzmann is steadfast in “Woe unto them” and handles the second big test of “O rest in the Lord” well. She is also really effective in her declamatory recitative.  The first part at 63 minutes shows Ozawa keeps things moving as do most readings of the oratorio these days. Dasch is pure of tone in her showpiece “Hear ye, Israel”. Goerne holds the hall spellbound in “It is enough!”  but the piece is really more than an album of set arias and this thoroughly prepared performance has other jewels. Why not try the Trio of Angles in part 2?  The Rundfunkchor Berlin prepared by Simon Halsey also deserve high praise throughout as does the contribution of tenor Anthony Dean Griffey who I have never heard sing better. For reference the second part timing is 62 minutes. There is a Bruckner No 1 from earlier in the same season as the Elijah that has already appeared on the label in audio form in their Bruckner box (review). Finally there is Ozawa’s final concert in 2016 where he presided over a second half of Beethoven including the Egmont overture and the Choral Fantasy with Peter Serkin. All these Blu-ray performances are also available on the Berlin Philharmonic’s Digital Concert Hall channel but it is nice to have them here, particularly Elijah.

The booklet notes and photographs are excellent. I hope I have given MWI readers a worthy review of this fitting and important tribute to the much-loved Seiji Ozawa who died in February 2024.

Philip Harrison

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Contents of the 6 CDs:
Ludwig van Beethoven: Leonore Overture No 2 in C major, Op 72
Max Bruch: Concerto for Violin and Orchestra No. 1 in G minor, Op 26, Pierre Amoyal (violin)
Maurice Ravel: Concerto for Piano and Orchestra in G major, Martha Argerich (piano)
Béla Bartók: Concerto for Viola and Orchestra, Sz 120, Wolfram Christ (viola)
Joseph Haydn: Symphony No 60 in C major “Il distratto”
Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky: Symphony No 1 in G minor, Op 13 “Winter Dreams”
Anton Bruckner: Symphony No 7 in E major
Gustav Mahler: Symphony No 1
Paul Hindemith: Symphonia Serena
Hector Berlioz: Symphonie fantastique, Op 14
Richard Strauss: Eine Alpensinfonie, Op 64
Richard Wagner: Tristan und Isolde: Vorspiel und Liebestod

Contents of the Blu-ray disc:
Ludwig van Beethoven: Egmont, Op 84: Overture; Fantasy for Piano, Chorus and Orchestra in C
minor, Op 80 “Choral Fantasy”, Peter Serkin (piano) Rundfunkchor Berlin
Felix Mendelssohn: Elijah, Oratorio, Op 70, Annette Dasch, Gal James (sopranos), Nathalie Stutzmann,
Nadine Weissmann (contraltos) Paul O’Neill, Anthony Dean Griffey (tenors), Matthias Goerne (baritone)
Fernando Javier Radó (bass), Rundfunkchor Berlin
Anton Bruckner: Symphony No 1 in C minor (Linz version)
Bonus – Seiji Ozawa becomes honorary member of the Berliner Philharmoniker 

Technical details:
Picture: Full HD 1080/60i – 16:9
Sound: PCM Stereo 24-bit/48 kHz
Dolby Atmos 24 bit/48 kHz
Region Code: ABC (worldwide)
Languages: German, English, Japanese